


Dirty Disco

by wingedbears



Series: The Roller Disco [1]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope
Genre: 70's AU, Alternate Universe - Dirty Dancing Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs in a Car, Candy Blow Jobs, Cassian Is Very Dumb, Disco, Friends to Lovers, Gratuitous 70'S References, Jingles - Freeform, M/M, Mistaken Identity, POV Cassian Andor, Rollerblades & Rollerskates, Sex in a Car, Smart Is The New Sexy, roller disco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-19 02:20:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14864801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedbears/pseuds/wingedbears
Summary: Cassian Andor, the Phantom Roller, teaches Bodhi Rook how to get down on the rink.  But Bodhi falls for the Roller.  And Cassian has been in love with Bodhi since the beginning of time.





	Dirty Disco

**Author's Note:**

> OMG THANKS FOR READING THIS, BUT A SPECIAL SHOUT OUT TO [ROGUESHADOWS](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rogueshadows/pseuds/rogueshadows%20) FOR FANTASTIC CHEER LEADING AND BETA-ING!

Cassian waits outside the candy shop for Bodhi, the heat of summer finally coming in, making the back of his neck sweat.  He rubs his neck, his long hair wet from the moisture. He sighs, wishing he was wearing his shorts and not these jeans. The bell bottoms are tight and the shirt keeps sticking to his belly.  It’s no six pack, that’s for sure. He tugs cigarettes from his pocket and lights it up, putting it to his lips and taking a long drag. 

He looks out over the park across the street, the swoops and curves perfect for skating.  He longs to pull on his wheels and hit the pavement. But that would ruin his reputation. He’s the masked man of the disco, after all, the Phantom Roller.  He didn’t choose the name himself, sadly. He would have picked something infinitely cooler.

He’s finishes his cigarette and is contemplating lighting another one when the back door opens.  Cassian stands up and quickly crushes the stick under his foot.

Bodhi locks the door, not even looking at him.  His mustache twitches from the moue of his mouth.  Cassian almost rolls his eyes.

“You know I can smell it, Cassian, I don’t know why you’re hiding it,” Bodhi says, jiggling the door handle to double check it.

“Because everytime you catch me, I get a lecture,” Cassian says.  “How was today, candyman? Did you make the world taste good?”

“I hate that movie,” Bodhi says, finally turning to face Cassian.  “And don’t distract me, you know they’re bad for you.” He picks up the garbage from the back of the store and tosses it into the dumpster, the stench wafting over them.  

Cassian makes a face.  “I’m a grown ass man, Rook, I’ll do what I please.”

“I just don’t want you killing over from something like cigarettes, when you could have a full happy life.”

“Yeah?  Doing what, computers?”

“They’re not a fad, and besides,” Bodhi says, nudging him as they start to walk out to the park.  “You love it.”

“Yeah, I get all the guys,” Cassian mutters.  

Bodhi smiles at him.  “You could, you know. The makeover is always on the table.”

Cassian shivers, imagining Bodhi’s hands all over him.  But he knows that’s not what Bodhi means. “The day I let your sisters give me a makeover is the day I’ll quit cigarettes.”  And the day Bodhi Rook could ever look at Cassian as a viable boyfriend material is the day the world ends.

“You know that’s just more of an incentive, right?  I’m going to hold you to it, now.”

Cassian wants Bodhi to hold him to everything.  Wait, that doesn’t even make sense, he thinks. “You can try,” he says instead.

Bodhi and Cassian walk up to Cassian’s car, parked near the ocean side.  As per their Friday night ritual, they head to the boardwalk. Bodhi and Cassian are both glad to find their usual bench empty, heading over to sit and wait for the sun to set.

The sea breeze washes over them and Cassian longs to pull out another cigarette, but doesn’t dare to with Bodhi next to him.  Instead, he slides his hands into his too tight pockets and stares out onto the water, the fading daylight shimmers across the water.  They’ve been doing this since high school, watching the day end and the people go by. Part of Cassian wonders if Bodhi is still doing this for Cassian’s sake.  After all, Bodhi doesn’t think Cassian has a nightlife.

For the most part, he’s right.  Cassian works in his own basement most of the time, typing all day, and then skating on the street during his free time, but never around Bodhi.  Then he picks Bodhi up from the candy shop. Sometimes he’ll go out as the Phantom Roller, even going as far as hitting up the Empire, but mostly he stays in and watches terrible late night movies on TV.  

Beside him, Bodhi sighs.  He’s beautiful in the light of the setting sun, but Cassian thinks he’s beautiful all the time anyway.  

“What is it?” Cassian asks.  

“Han and I, we uh, broke up.”

Cassian blinks.  A million questions run through his head.   _Why? What happened? What did he do? Want me to beat him up?_ He lands on a simpler one, “You okay?”

Bodhi shrugs.  “I don’t know. But he’s with Luke now.”  He frowns. “You know Han, he was so blase about the whole thing.  Like I didn’t matter, like we didn’t matter after all this time.”

Cassian doesn’t know where Han works, but he wants to find out, hating to see Bodhi hurt.  Even though it’s it own kind of punishment, not being with Bodhi.

“What’re you gonna do?” Cassian asks.  He looks at Bodhi, and he seems less hurt, but more angry.

“Make him regret leaving me.  I’m better than some twink,” he says.  

Cassian reaches out, grasping Bodhi’s arm gently.  “Don’t do anything stupid,” he says. “Han’s an idiot, but isn’t it best to leave it alone?”

Bodhi frowns at him, not looking convinced.  “Leave it to you to say that.” He crosses his arms.  He blows out a blustery sigh. “I’m gonna figure out a way to stick it to him.”

Cassian raises an eyebrow.

“Not like that!” Bodhi scrunches his face.  The sun falls further, the light shifting from gold to pink as they watch in silence. The night crowds start to assemble, more people walking by as the boardwalk lights up behind them.  

“Okay,” Bodhi says, when only moonlight and neon lights up their skin. “You know what comes next.”  He turns and looks at Cassian, pleadingly. His puppy dog eyes make it hard for Cassian to keep his resolve, to remember why he can’t give in.

“I can’t, I’ve got more work to do,” Cassian says, the familiar excuse rolling off his tongue easily.

Bodhi throws up his hands in exasperation.  “You say that every time! Come on, what could be so important?”

“It’s a government contract,” Cassian says.  That’s true. “I need to get it finished by next week.”  That’s not true, it’s already finished.

“Please?” Bodhi begs.  “Just one night. And you’ll get to see the Phantom Roller, he’s always at the Empire on Friday.  Cassian, you have to see this guy, he’s amazing.”

Cassian frowns, carefully hiding the pride he feels at the compliment.  “It’s roller disco, how amazing can it be?”

Bodhi’s eyes widen.  “Really good. And,” he says, like he’s dangling a carrot in front of Cassian’s face, “he’s got _incredible_ legs.”

Cassian rolls his eyes and shoves Bodhi, letting the blush on his cheeks hide the fact it’s his legs Bodhi seems so impressed by, not that he’d ever know that.  Let Bodhi assume it’s because Cassian is inexperienced. “Maybe next time,” Cassian says, hating to let Bodhi down.

“Alright, but if I see Luke and you’re not there to stop me, I’ll just wake you up later to help hide the body.”

“It’s a deal,” Cassian says.  What he wouldn’t do for Bodhi reaches unfathomable numbers.

Cassian walks Bodhi back to his car, a 74 AMC Hornet, butterscotch gold and beautiful.  It still looks cherry on the outside but the inside has a few scratches, and of course, the ashtray is always full.  Cassian slides in, leaning over to unlock Bodhi’s side.

Bodhi clImbs in, and puts on his seatbelt, looking up when Cassian doesn’t do the same. “You know it doesn’t start unless you buckle up,” Bodhi says.

“Yeah, but I like to sit behind the wheel and imagine the freedom of not wearing a seatbelt.”

“You bought the car,” Bodhi laughs.  “You knew it’s disadvantages!”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Cassian says, reaching next to him for the seatbelt and clicks it in.  The engine starts up, growling. Cassian loves this car, despite the stupid seatbelts. It was the first big thing he bought with his paycheck.  It made him feel like an adult. At least, for a little while until he stood next to Bodhi. Bodhi, who was slim and beautiful and fashionable. After growing up together, it always seemed a bit unfair that Cassian was the late bloomer, or, as he believes, the never bloomer.  

Cassian drives and lets Bodhi control the FM, switching from The Commodores to Cher and back again.  

“Dude, just pick one,” Cassian says, after the third time.  

“They both have good qualities,” Bodhi says, licking his lips. Cassian doesn’t let himself get distracted by the sight, focusing on the road ahead.  

“Yeah, but you have to go through that news channel and it’s always a bummer.”

“I like bummers,” Bodhi says, just to be contrary.  

“Bodhi, I’m begging you,” Cassian says, pulling the car to a stop on the way to Bodhi’s house.

“I like that too,” he says, smiling.  

Cassian feels his face heating up, his shoulders rising around his face.  

Bodhi laughs, and leaves it on The Commodores, letting Lionel Richie's voice soothe the embarrassment from his body.  He knows Bodhi likes Cher more, he’s far less into easy rock than Cassian.

Cassian pulls into Bodhi’s driveway and stops, Bodhi climbs out, sparing Cassian from any further teasing.  “Have a good night!” Cassian calls out the window, waiting until Bodhi is inside to drive off. Bodhi can never know about it but tonight Cassian’s going to roll his worries away  
  


The Empire is booming by the time Cassian rolls in.  He pays the fee, and he hears the low murmur start, the buzz that comes with his reputation.  The Phantom Roller has arrived.

He barely remembers how it started.  He knows he felt awkward in the high waisted track shorts that rode up, the knee high socks, and the thin shirt that showed more chest hair than he was comfortable with.  He pulled back his hair with a hairband he found in his car, left by Bodhi’s sister when he drove her to school. He was about to leave the house, but as soon as he turned the doorknob, he lost all confidence.  Who did he think he was? Who was he trying to impress? _(Bodhi, always Bodhi)_

He grabbed the sparkly silver half mask his mom gave him for Mardi Gras and slipped it on.  He parked his car four blocks away and rolled the rest of the way to the Empire.

Now, he has a reputation he’d never have imagined.  He’s the Phantom Roller, the masked man of the disco.  He’s getting his change back from the doorman when he sees it, a bold flyer pasted on the wall.

Two hundred fifty dollars for the best roller couple routine.  The contest was three weeks out. Cassian frowns. There’s no competition for singles like him.  Cassian wonders if that’s because he’s the best, or because no one wants to see singles roll, that might as well be another Friday night at the rink.  

He gets out on the rink just in time for Gloria Gaynor to come on with his anthem, “I Will Survive.”  Cassian let all his worries slough off his body as he speed up around the track, criss cross, the wacky, the spread eagle, and his signature: the salchow.  He kicks up with one foot, and spins, landing on his other, and he hears the whoops and cheers of the rink.

He’s making his way backwards around the rink, swirling, Diana Ross leading the beat with “Upside Down.”  He can’t help but think of Bodhi. Bodhi, who’s on the side of the track, talking to Han, and a blonde who’s talking, a big smile on his face.  Must be Luke. Cassian can’t see Bodhi’s face unless he spins around, but he bets Bodhi’s frowning.

“Time for the whip!” the DJ shouts, and everyone whoops as Prince’s “Wanna Be Your Lover” comes on, linking arms across the rink, each length facing different directions.  They start forward, spinning faster and faster, some of the outer people flying off and laughing. Cassian slowly rolls to a stop when the whip is over. He glances around and can’t find Bodhi, so he rolls off the rink and heads to the water fountain.

He’s taking a drink when he hears a voice behind him, gruff and unmistakably Bodhi. “I have a proposition for you,” he says.  

Cassian keeps drinking, hoping his reputation might keep Bodhi away, or even on the slim chance that Bodhi is talking to someone else.

“I’m talking to you, Roller.”

Great.  Bodhi’s gonna find out, and then Cassian’s going to have to explain himself.  Cassian wipes off the water with the back of his arm, and lowers his voice. “What’s the proposition?” He looks Bodhi up and down, feeling crazy.  And a little loose from the disco.

“I want that two fifty,” Bodhi says.  

Cassian shakes his head.  “I’m a single. I don’t do doubles,” he says.

“You will for me,” Bodhi says.  His arms are crossed, and his hip is sticking out, but he’s biting his lip.  He’s faking it.

Even though Cassian would do anything for Bodhi, the Phantom Roller wouldn’t.  “No thanks, sweetheart.” He rolls off.

“Wait!” Bodhi calls, and Cassian hates that he has to leave so soon, he didn’t even get warmed up, but if Bodhi finds out, there goes their friendship.  

Cassian stops, even though he doesn’t want to.  He’s in front of the exit, the door just within reach.  

“Hear me out,” Bodhi says, desperate.  “Please.”

Cassian looks down at his skates, debating.  Everything in him is telling him to run. But he turns anyway.  “Follow me,” Cassian says.

He leads them to an alcove behind the soda machine, notorious for making out and weed deals.  It smells a little. Bodhi makes a face, but starts in on his pitch. “Look it’s not even about the money,” he says.  “You can have the whole amount when we win. I just want to prove to Han Solo that I’m the best.”

“You’re skating for revenge?”

“And I don’t have a chance with anyone else but you.”  Bodhi turns his big eyes on Cassian. “Please.”

“And I get all the money?” he asks, trying not to blow his cover.  Cassian doesn’t need it, he’s fine without the money.

“Yes.”

Cassian wracks his brain.  He should say no. He needs to leave right now.  But his curious nature has him wondering, has him playing with fire.  “Meet me here tomorrow at nine a.m.”

“Nine?” Bodhi asks, baffled.  “That’s Saturday morning, man!  I’ll be hungover!”

“Let me put it this way:” Cassian says.  “I’ll be here tomorrow at nine a.m. If you don’t show up, this is over.”

Bodhi furrows his brow, but nods.  Cassian shoulders past him, and pushes out the exit, rolling down the four blocks to his car, constantly checking behind him to see if someone followed.  

He pulls off his skates after, sitting in the front and looking out across the parking lot.  “What the hell am I doing?” he asks himself  
  


The next morning, Cassian pulls on his track shorts and knee highs, and slips on his favorite roller shirt, the one with hands printed over his pecs.  It’s a girls large, so it’s a little snug on him, and it keeps riding up. Cassian bites his lip and looks down at his belly. Better not. He whips off the shirt and pulls on one a little looser,  the word “Miami” printed across the front.

He feels like having a cigarette but Bodhi might smell it on him.  He reaches for the Old Spice, then remembers that’s his scent. Bodhi would recognize it.  This was already more complicated than it needed to be. He sprays on last year’s Christmas gift from his mother, Macho Musk.  

It smells mostly musky, but a hint of citrus too.  Too late to take a shower, regardless.

He rolls up to the Empire, where Bodhi is leaning against the wall, waiting.  

He stops in front of Bodhi, who wrinkles his nose.  “You smell like a deer drinking OJ in the woods,” he says.

Cassian rolls his eyes.  

“And you kept on the mask,” Bodhi continues, walking behind Cassian.  

“I’m not letting you get to know how mild mannered I am,” Cassian says, paying the fee.  He hits the rink, no one except him and Bodhi, the disco ball is up, and the lights are too. He loves early mornings in the rink.  Bodhi finishes lacing up, and rolls out to meet him. Cassian toe stops, crossing his arms and considering Bodhi. “Okay, how many tricks can you do?” he asks.

“A few,” Bodhi shrugs.  “Crab walk, stuff like that.”  

“Okay, I’m going to request a song and you show me,” Cassian says, rolling off the track to the DJ booth.  The DJ isn’t there, though. Cassian rolls his eyes and toes up the steps to the record player and flips through the forty fives, one eye on Bodhi, slowly making a loop around the track.

He finds Redbone’s “Come and Get Your Love” which has a fairly slow beat.  He puts it on, and sits in the chair, watching Bodhi.

Bodhi swirls around,  does a crab walk, a seducer, and then an alley oop.  He does them all well enough but tragically off beat.

Cassian blinks.  Bodhi’s problem isn’t skating.  His problem is dancing. Anyone can do a trick with enough practice.  Rhythm is another bag.

Bodhi rolls up to the booth as the record ends.  Cassian slides the vinyl back where it belongs.

“Well?” Bodhi asks.

“Take off your skates,” Cassian says, looking for albums.  It’s going to be hard to dance if every three minutes he has to get up and start the record over.  But it looks like that’s what he’s going to have to do.

“What?” Bodhi asks.

“I said, take your skates off.”  Cassian isn’t looking at whatever face Bodhi is making.

“No I heard you, but why?”

“Baby Driver” has a steady beat, that could work.  He pops the record on, and unlaces his skates before going down the stairs.

“Simon and Garfunkel?” Bodhi asks, a bit incredulously.

“Boy, you are full of questions,” Cassian says waving him over to the rink.  He holds out his hands, and steadies himself. “I’m going to teach you to dance.”

Bodhi looks struck.  “I know how to dance,” he says.  He’s unlacing his skates despite arguing with him.

“Then I’m going to re-teach you,” Cassian says, grabbing Bodhi’s wrist.  Bodhi walks towards him, looking suspicious.

“I’m going to lead,” Cassian says, and he wraps a hand around Bodhi’s waist and draws him in, holding up his other hand for Bodhi to hold.  Their chests brush against each other, and Cassian gently sways them to the beat.

“Aren’t we going to move?” Bodhi asks, trying to pull away.  Cassian yanks him back.

“One, two, three, four,” Cassian says, speeding them up, stepping back and stepping forward in time to the beat.  

Bodhi follows suit, and when Cassian switches it up and steps to the side, Bodhi twists trying to keep up, and slips on his socks.  Cassian catches him from behind. He pulls Bodhi up, and Bodhi mumbles a thanks.

They spend the next hour like that, Cassian twirling Bodhi around the empty dance floor.  It seems like every time their chests or legs touch, which is a lot, Cassian loses his breath.  One twirl has Bodhi’s back pressed to Cassian’s chest, and they’re both breathing hard from dancing for so long.  

Cassian holds the position longer than he should, feeling guilty about how good it feels.  He lets go slowly. Bodhi spins to look at him.

They stand there for a minute, just looking at each other.  Cassian hopes Bodhi can’t tell it’s him. Bodhi tilts his head, about to ask another question, but Cassian stops him.

“I’ll see you Wednesday night.  I’ll have a routine by then.”

Bodhi nods, silent.  “Can I walk you back?” he asks.

Cassian shakes his head, then smiles, trying to make it look more crooked, more like Han Solo’s.  “Like I said, I can’t let you know my mild mannered alter ego.”

Bodhi frowns.  “Alright. Wednesday night.  I get out of the shop by seven.”

“See you then,” Cassian says, rolling off the track, watching Bodhi considering him.  Cassian waves jauntily and pushes out the exit door.

  


Saturday night is for television, Bodhi coming over to join him for as long as Cassian can remember.  Cassian suspects Bodhi just wants another night at the Empire but still he appeases Cassian by staying in.  Cassian loves “Battlestar Galactica,” what can he say? Bodhi’s a “Hart to Hart” guy. They end up watching the whole line up.

Cassian usually sets up with Jiffy Pop and a couple of beers, but tonight he has to wash off all the stink from the Macho Musk.  And hide his stuff. He sets to work cleaning up for once, even lights a candle, and shoves all his roller gear under the bed. Bodhi would never go there, after all.

He loses track of time, and is in the shower when he hears Bodhi come in.  “Hello?” Bodhi calls out.

“Be right there!” Cassian shouts over the spray, eyes squeezed together.  He rinses off the third round of soap, praying it’ll be enough to lose the scent.  He grabs a towel and wraps it around his waist, the rest of him dripping wet and yanks open the bathroom door, where Bodhi is on the other side.

Cassian has never blushed so hard in his life.  

Bodhi is staring, and then opens his mouth after a minute.  “There you are,” he says voice rough. “You cleaned, I thought something had happened to you.”

“Ha ha,” Cassian says, pushing wet hair out of his face.  

Bodhi swallows.  “Ready?”

“Let me,” he waves a hand around, the other holding his towel closed, “get dressed,” he finishes.

Bodhi nods and turns slowly, headed to the kitchen.

Cassian practically runs to his room, grasping his towel desperately, gasping for breath.  He grabs jeans and a wide collared shirt, and struggles to put them on his wet body. He brushes his hair sloppily out of his face and walks out from his bedroom.  

Bodhi is already on the couch, popcorn in a bowl, the TV on.  He looks up at Cassian’s entrance and smiles, although it seems a little watery and unsure.  “Hi,” he says. “Come sit down, you won’t believe what happened last night.”

Cassian huffs a laugh, and more wet hair flops down in front of his face, and he tucks it behind his ear.  He plops down next to Bodhi, who is looking at Cassian’s wet shirt sticking to his soft stomach. The trail of hair shows through, and Cassian throws an arm over his stomach and laughs again.  “I should enter a wet t-shirt contest,” he jokes, and Bodhi laughs, awkward and high pitched.

Bodhi clears his throat and turns back to the TV.

Cassian reaches for the popcorn and Bodhi puts the bowl between them.  “So you were saying about last night?” Cassian asks. It’s still a commercial break, so Bodhi won’t talk over Starbuck.  

“I talked to him,” Bodhi says.  “The Phantom Roller.”

Cassian raises an eyebrow.  “And he is…?”

“Come on Cassian, not even _you_ live under that big of a rock!”

Cassian frowns at this.  What does Bodhi know? “Why did you talk to him?  I thought he was some elusive person, or something.”  He turns sideways on the couch, tucking his bare feet under Bodhi’s thigh.

Bodhi shifts and sighs, well used to Cassian crowding into his space.  “I ran into Han and his new boyfriend, Luke.” He crosses his arms. “Jesus, Cassian it was like, Luke was so nice, and it was so obvious that Han had forgotten about me... it just made me angry, you know?”

“Yeah,” Cassian says, even though he’s lying. He can’t understand in the slightest how anyone could forget Bodhi.

“I just wanted to show them that I’m still here, I guess.  So, I convinced the Phantom Roller to dance with me for the contest.”

“What contest?”  Cassian stuffs a handful of popcorn in his mouth.  

“Two hundred fifty bucks to the best roller couple.”

“What’re you going to do with your half?” Cassian asks.

Bodhi sighs.  “Nothing, I gave my half to the Roller.”

“Bodhi!” Cassian chastises, even though he was there, Bodhi made that bet with him, and Cassian is going to take it all.  What he’d do with it though is another matter entirely. Cassian thinks that taking a trip over to Knotts Berry Farm would be nice.  Maybe they could even bring Bodhi’s younger sister along.

Bodhi shushes him in time for “Battlestar Galactica,” which Cassian knows is suspect, because Bodhi hates this show.  

They watch the rest in silence, and as soon as the voiceover comes on during the credits, Bodhi gets up and switches it to channel nine.  

Cassian groans at the too familiar opening on the screen.  “Bodhi, come on.”

“It’s a good show!” Bodhi insists.   

“It’s so sexist.  You have three sisters, how could you?”

“It’s empowering women,” Bodhi says, gesturing towards the TV set, where the opening of “Charlie’s Angels” plays out.  It’s either this or “The Love Boat” though and they both hate “The Love Boat.”

“It’s just about boobs,” Cassian says, gesturing to his chest.  “And you’re a gay man.”

“Exactly, I’m not objectifying them.”

Cassian squints as Charlie sends the angels a new assignment.  “Is it Charlie’s voice? Does that do it for you?” he teases.

Bodhi splutters, hitting Cassian lightly on the arm, so Cassian knows he’s onto to something.  “Good Morning, Bodhi,” Cassian says in a deep voice. “Today you’ll be going undercover as a tennis player-” Bodhi throws popcorn in Cassian’s face, although it makes Cassian stop for another reason too.  The Phantom Roller has a deep voice. If Bodhi connected the two... “Okay, for that, I’m changing it to The Love Boat.” He starts to get up but Bodhi hurls his body over Cassian’s lap.

“Please, Cassian?” Bodhi asks, eyes wide from Cassian’s lap.

Cassian rolls his eyes, trying to hide his blush with his drying hair as he shoves Bodhi onto the floor.  Bodhi acts affronted, and Cassian laughs so hard he snorts.

Bodhi laughs with him.

  
  
  


Wednesday night comes and Cassian rolls up to the Empire as usual, Bodhi stands waiting outside again.  

“Hey,” Bodhi greets softly.

Cassian nods, feigning an air of disinterest, and feels like a jerk doing it.  

“So, you have a routine set up?”

“Yeah, I won’t have control of the booth this time though, so we’ll have to use whatever the DJ plays.”  Cassian pushes the door open and pays the fee, toes to a stop to wait for Bodhi.

“I’m game.  What’s our song going to be, anyway?”  Bodhi is looking at him questioningly, and Cassian hopes his Phantom Roller voice is different from his Charlie voice.

“Ballroom Blitz,” Cassian answers.  

“I love that song!” Bodhi says.  Cassian knows.

Cassian leads the way out to a mostly empty rink, a few stragglers here and there.  Mostly teenagers trying to get out of the house for a few hours and with a few bucks.  

“How do you know the rink’s slow times anyway?” Bodhi asks, as they start warming up, making a lap around the rink.   

Cassian shrugs.  “I just figured it out, the peak influx can’t last all week,” he says, and he suddenly thinks that’s probably something too smart, too nerdy, too Cassian to say, so he covers it.  “You know,” he says, wracking his mind, “the big leagues are on the weekends, and the kids are on the boardwalk.”

Bodhi nods, looks thoughtful.  “You’re the big leagues, huh?” Bodhi asks.  

“I’m okay,” Cassian shrugs, spinning around to grab Bodhi by the hands.  “Close your eyes,” he says, and Bodhi scoffs at first, looking hesitant. Cassian repeats himself gently.  “We’re gonna spin, it’s easier if you close your eyes.”

“Okay, but if I fall I’m quitting.”

“You wouldn’t quit,” Cassian says, watching as Bodhi closes his eyes.  Cassian hysterically wonders if Bodhi would close his eyes if Cassian asked him to, if he’d let Cassian get so close.  Probably not.

Cassian gently guides them into a wide spin then lengthens their arms out, pressing their chests together.  

“You don’t know me, Roller,” Bodhi says, breath on Cassian’s face.

Cassian feels wild.  “I know you better than you think, Bodhi Rook,” he says.  Bodhi opens his eyes, and Cassian realizes how close they are to each other.  He loosens his arms, drifting from Bodhi again.

Bodhi is still staring, so Cassian speeds up, pushes Bodhi wide, and spins still while Bodhi whirls around him.  Bodhi whoops, and Cassian smiles. He can do this. Bodhi can’t figure out the Roller is him if the Roller is flirty and confident.  Because that’s everything Cassian isn’t.

They practiced all the moves that Cassian could think of and Bodhi was a natural at them all.  Cassian offered to meet at the boardwalk on Saturday morning, and Bodhi agreed, face bright. Cassian, however, left with a bad taste in his mouth.  

 

He doesn’t get the chance often, but when contracts are low, and there’s nothing but “I Dream of Jeannie” reruns on, he goes  to Bodhi’s shop.

It’s really prime real estate, not too far off the boardwalk, just across the park.  Cassian likes imagining being a part of it, sometimes. Popping in to help run the store in the middle of the day when it’s slow.  

This time, though, he’s cruising the candy lineup, wondering which lollipop to get and frustrating Bodhi in the process.

“Just pick one,” Bodhi says, exasperated from holding the jar open for so long.

“It requires thought and time,” Cassian says.

“Dude, I swear, if you make me get down one more jar,” he lets the statement hang.

“You’re all talk,” Cassian says, grabbing for a long twisty rainbow lollipop.  He hopes it’s an okay flavor. He crams it in his mouth, sucking to find out.

Bodhi puts the jar back on the shelf, frowning.  “I’m not all talk,” he says. “I went skating with the Phantom Roller today.”  He leans across the counter, smiling dreamily.

Cassian rolls his eyes.  “What’s so great about this guy, anyway?”  The question sound garbled around the candy in his mouth.  He doesn’t know why he asks. Maybe he wants to hear something good about himself, especially from Bodhi.  It feels dangerous.

“Cassian, you just have to see him,” Bodhi insists.  “He’s like, the best roller out there, and he taught me some tricks, and he wasn’t condescending about it either…”  Bodhi trails off mid sentence, his wide eyed gaze fixed on Cassian.

Cassian slurps the juice from around his mouth up.  It sounds gross. He jams the stick over to his cheek.  “What?” he asks.

The bell rings over the door and Cassian turns.  Han Solo and Luke Skywalker stroll in. That must be what caught Bodhi’s attention.

Han gives him a strange look as they pass by and Cassian walks up to the counter. If Han is there to gloat he’s in for something else. This is his best friend, dammit.

“Heard you hooked up with the Roller,” Han drawls, leaning on the counter, making the space his.  

Bodhi crosses his arms.  

Cassian sucks up the juice from the lollipop and licks around it.  He can’t be distracted with candy drool right now. Han and Luke look at him; Han worried, and Luke blushing.  Bodhi is looking at the floor, darting glances at Cassian.

“He didn’t hook up with him,” Cassian says.  He pops a hip out. “But they will beat your ass next Friday night.”

“What do you know?” Han asks, affronted, but Luke perks up.  

“Have you met him?” Luke asks, eyes bright.  “He’s the best, I’d love to get to talk to him sometime.”

“Kid,” Han says, putting a hand on Luke’s shoulder and squeezing.  “Let me say my piece.”

Luke shrugs off Han’s hand and frowns at him, petulant.  “I told you what would happen the next time you called me ‘kid’,” he says.

Han smiles, slow as honey, “I know,” he says.  It sounds soft, though, much softer than the occasion calls for.  

“Yes,” Bodhi interrupts, brows furrowed.  “I am dancing with the Phantom Roller, and you’re not going to stop me, no matter what intimidation tactics you use.”

Luke looks confused.  “Oh we’re not here to intimidate you,” he chirps.  “We just wanted to wish you good luck!”

Han rubs a hand over his face, looking like he either wants to laugh or scream.  

Luke’s good intentions seem to rile Bodhi up even more.  “Thanks,” he says, spitting venom.

Luke smiles, regardless. “Of course.”  His eyebrows raise and he leans in. “Can we get one of those lollipops?” he asks, nodding at Cassian.  

Cassian licks a long stripe up his.  “See, Bodhi,” he says. “Free advertising.”

Bodhi must be mad because he chokes on nothing, and sends Han and Luke out empty handed.

  
  


When Friday night comes Cassian drives to pick up Bodhi.  He has a quick smoke beforehand and they walk out to their bench.  Bodhi asks him to come to the roller disco, and Cassian says no. It’s a routine, a comfortable one.

As Cassian gets dressed that night, he feels regret for not telling Bodhi the truth, worse now that Bodhi’s so caught up with the Roller.  Bodhi would understand, ultimately, that’s what good friends do, right? Or would he never forgive Cassian? The way Bodhi has been handling this whole Han fiasco goes to show how far Bodhi will go for revenge, even if it is petty.  

Cassian’s his best friend, he’s allowed to think that.

He hops in the Hornet and drives out to the Empire.

When he rolls in, the disco is in full swing, girls in blue eyeshadow skating slow loops. The more dedicated skaters on the inside circle swinging tight and fast to the beat.  Cassian’s eyes search out for Bodhi, heart dropping when he can’t spot him. Maybe Bodhi went home with someone? It’s been awhile, and Cassian doesn’t judge him for his choices.  It just hurts when Bodhi doesn’t pick him.

He sees Chewie, with a giant, furry paper mache mask on, sliding one foot out and riding it out, ass to the floor.  Cassian doesn’t know how Chewie sees anything with that mask on, but somehow he makes it work.

Cassian gets on the track and spins and spins until his worries fade, starting out easy with scissor kicks and swishing back and forth across the floor.  “Another One Bites the Dust” comes on and most of the people who like the slow songs get off, as the rest know it gets rough. It’s almost like “Rollerball” but it’s not a life or death situation here.  Cassian can keep up and duck with the best of them, so he stays on the track letting his heart and legs race to the beat.

Queen fades out, and ABBA fades in.  Everyone’s back on the track, but Cassian gets off.  He’s tired. It feels good, to go out and skate, but if Bodhi’s not there, who’s he skating for?  

“Hey Roller,” says the familiar voice behind him, and Cassian turns, surprised to see Bodhi, a full dark blue jumpsuit on, unzipped lower than Cassian knows Bodhi likes it.  Cassian swallows, torn between the idea of zipping it back up where Bodhi feels comfortable or rolling them back to a dark corner where Cassian can get on his knees and unzip it lower.

“Hey,” Cassian says, deepening his voice.

Bodhi looks annoyed after a second, and Cassian reaches out and catches the wide zipper.  Bodhi’s eyes go wide, his cheeks darken a little. Cassian can’t believe he’s doing this, taking the game this far.  He places his other hand on Bodhi’s chest, and he can feel Bodhi’s heart going rabbit fast.

Cassian pulls the zipper up, sliding his palm up Bodhi’s chest so Bodhi’s chest hair doesn’t get caught.  Cassian’s hand is on the inside of the jumpsuit, feeling the soft and wild chest hair under his fingers, the edge of Bodhi’s nipple near his thumb.  Bodhi’s chest is visibly rising, and he reaches out to Cassian. No, to the Phantom Roller, and Cassian stops and rolls himself back.

“Come on,” Cassian says, reaching for Bodhi’s hand this time, and they go round the track, ABBA singing about needing a man after midnight.  Cassian knows the feeling. He knows he’s playing with fire, wondering what exactly Bodhi is doing. Is the Phantom Roller his rebound? Does Cassian want it to be?

Cassian feels like his chest is sunken in, his throat turned to ash.  Bodhi wants the Phantom Roller but not Cassian, never Cassian. Bodhi is attracted to someone whose looks are as close as it gets to Cassian’s - the Roller - and Bodhi still doesn’t even look Cassian’s way.  He wants someone more flashy, more special, more.

“Everything okay?” Bodhi shouts over the music.  

Cassian smiles, trying again to imitate the lopsided grin that Han Solo gives to Luke these days.  “I’m alright,” he promises, with an easy nod. Bodhi looks suspicious, as if he’s about to further inquire. Cassian swings him into a spin before he can, listening to the whoops of the crowd.  It’s time for the Phantom Roller to show off, a chance to intimidate the competition a little.

He skates tight loops around Bodhi, and guides Bodhi into a sitting glide, the same move Chewie was pulling off earlier, but now with two people.  They pull up as they lose momentum, and Cassian glides his legs open, the seducer move, and pulls Bodhi through them, guiding him through fast and Bodhi laughs as he falls on his ass.  

Cassian smiles as he turns around, and skates back to help Bodhi up.  “We’ll work on that tomorrow,” he says.

Bodhi nods, carefree and not quick to let go of Cassian’s hand.  

  


Saturday morning comes before Cassian is ready. He’s not willing to lug a huge boombox out five miles to the boardwalk so he parks the Hornet only a few blocks away.  He skates with the boombox on his shoulder, taking it slow, knowing that today is going to be a little more difficult.

He sits on the ledge of the skating bowl and it’s early enough that only the serious pavement surfers are around.  

It feels a little ridiculous to be wearing the mask outside the roller rink but he knows it’s his only choice, still scared to let Bodhi in on his secret.  

“Hey Roller,” he hears behind him, Bodhi’s voice smooth. Cassian thinks of last night’s dilemma and blushes.

“Hey,” he calls back, reaching around to the satchel he brought.  

“What’s in there?” Bodhi asks, sitting down next to him.  The jumpsuit was left at home this time, turned in for bell bottom jeans and a t-shirt.  Cassian is a little relieved, to be honest.

“Gauze, antiseptic.”

Bodhi looks confused.  Cassian rolls his eyes.  “Your gonna bust your ass out here, might as well be prepared.”

Bodhi huffs a laugh.  “You sound like my friend,” he says with a smile.

“Smart guy,” Cassian says of himself, not wanting to go too much further into this territory, no matter how tempting it might be.  He could find out what Bodhi really thinks of him.

“The smartest,” Bodhi says matter of factly, and Cassian grins despite himself.  He turns the boombox on, and cranks it to the FM station Bodhi always listens to.

They work on their routine to the DJ’s mix, leg sweeps, the under and through the legs, just like the night before.  It takes a while for that one to stick. Cassian weaves the two minutes with all the tricks he taught Bodhi, and Bodhi pulls them off beautifully.

Bodhi asks for a water break and Cassian shrugs.  “I’ll go get us something from the hot dog place,” Cassian says, and swoops up out of the bowl, skating over for refreshments.  He gets two waters, a Coca Cola, and a Quirst. Bodhi likes Quirst although Cassian thinks it’s disgusting. Bodhi also likes to annoy Cassian with the jingle.

Cassian sets down the drinks and sighs, readying himself for the jingle to come.  Instead, he gets an incredibly confused look at Cassian shuffles around in his satchel for a bottle opener.  “What?” he asks, finding the object and opening his Coke.

“How did you know I like Quirst?” Bodhi asks.

Cassian freezes, Coke to his lips.  Cassian knows Bodhi likes Quirst, but how does the Roller know?  Why would he get one and a Coke for himself? He feels exposed.

“They didn’t have any Gatorade,” Cassian comes up with. “And it’s canned lemonade, right?”  He hopes that works.

“It’s the new lemonade drink that tastes just right, when you got a thirst, feel like a Quirst,” Bodhi sings, the response almost Pavlovian.

Cassian smiles his fake smile, even though on the inside he’s groaning.  Bodhi blinks at him for a second, looking strange, like he was expecting something else.  They drink in silence and get back to work.

“I think I got it,” Bodhi says, after the tenth repeat of the routine, sweating out in the sun.

“Okay, now for the finale,” Cassian says, rubbing his hands.

“You didn’t add in the finale?” Bodhi asks incredulously.  

“It’s not tricky, or I would’ve shown you earlier.”

“Okay, then what?”  Bodhi is frowning, annoyed.

Cassian sighs.  “Come here,” he says, gesturing.

Bodhi rolls up next to him and drags his foot out to stop.  “Okay?”

“Closer,” Cassian takes Bodhi’s hand, guiding Bodhi to press up to him, all of his body against Cassian’s.  Cassian prays that his own body doesn’t react. “Okay,” Cassian says, low and quiet, “lift your right leg.”

Bodhi puts his hands on Cassian’s shoulders, and wobbles as he lifts his leg.  Cassian grabs his leg and pushes forward, the heat between them shuddering. It feels like the air between them is sound and what is not is touch.  Cassian guides Bodhi into a dip and Bodhi’s hands naturally slide around Cassian’s neck to hold on. Bodhi gazes up at Cassian, eyes darting across his face, to his mouth and eyes and back again. They slowly lose momentum from the push of the roll, but stay in the position for a little while longer.

“So that’s the finale, huh?” Bodhi asks, breathless.  Cassian, no, the _Phantom Roller_ did that.

“I didn’t want to show you until you were ready,” Cassian says, pulling Bodhi back up to standing, letting his leg go.  Bodhi keeps holding on, though, running his fingers through the little hairs that came loose from Cassian’s band.

“Well I think I’m ready now,” Bodhi says, low, blatantly looking at Cassian’s mouth.  

Cassian backs away, tearing himself from Bodhi’s grip.  “I gotta go,” he says. Bodhi was going to kiss him. It wasn’t his imagination, Bodhi was going to lean in and kiss him and Cassian pulled away.

“See you Wednesday?” Bodhi asks.  

Cassian pulls himself up.  “Yeah,” he says, his words hard to voice.  His throat feels tight all of a sudden. “See you Wednesday at the rink.”

  


Cassian knows they’re supposed to watch TV tonight, knows he should be content with what he has with Bodhi, but he feels restless.

“Hey,” he says, opening the door when Bodhi knocks.  “Can we go to the airport instead?” he asks, tugging his shirt down where it’s ridden up.  It’s the tight one with the hands over his pecs, but he’s so tired from all the espionage he doesn’t care.

“Sure,” Bodhi says, looking concerned.  

They take the Hornet out to the field, below the fence line, watching the stars until the belly of plane roars above them, taking off into the sky to be another blinking light.  They lay in the back, seats folded down, soft blanket between them and the upholstery.

“Wanna talk about it?” Bodhi says after an hour of silence.  

Cassian doesn’t want to talk about it, _can’t_ , but Bodhi is like a dog with a bone sometimes.  Especially when it comes to Cassian. “I don’t know, man,” he says, hoping Bodhi will let it go.  Instead Bodhi rolls over on his side to look at him, head propped up on his hand.

“Talk to me, Cassian.  I hate seeing you like this,” he says.  

Cassian sighs, for what feels like the hundredth time in two weeks, and lays on his back, staring up at the sky through the back window.  “It’s just... do you ever think about the future?”

Bodhi shrugs.  “Sometimes. I don’t know, like,” he waves a hand around, “when I was with Han, I never really thought of us being forever.”  He frowns deeply. “I just expected him to be around.”

“You ever think about growing older?  Settling down?” Cassian asks.

Bodhi is quiet for a few moments.  “Only sometimes,” he says lowly.

“I think about it too much, I guess.  Like, getting someone’s coffee just right without thinking about it because it’s just second nature, or sitting at the breakfast table and not talking, or laying in bed and just talking.  I want that.”

Bodhi’s eyes look deep in the dark, the light of the runway lighting his face halfway.  “You ever imagine that you’d always have someone with you?” he asks.

Cassian smiles, looks at Bodhi, so handsome and kind. “Yeah,” he says, honest for the first time in a week.  “With you.”

Bodhi looks at him for a beat, reaches out and tucks a lock of hair behind Cassian’s ear.  “Me too,” he says quietly.

Cassian smiles.  “You’ll probably end up with that Roller guy you keep going on about,” he says, hurting himself, teasing Bodhi.  

Bodhi hums, shrugs.  “He’s not that into me,” he says.  His fingers trace Cassian’s lips, looking for something.  It feels too close, too intimate, and Cassian gently grabs Bodhi’s wrist.  

Bodhi is lonely, he wants the Roller. While it would be easy to lean in and give into his desires, Bodhi wouldn’t want that forever fantasy with him.  Not the way Cassian does.

“Besides,” Bodhi continues, “He’s not sitting at the breakfast table not talking material.”

“He might be,” Cassian says, gently letting go of Bodhi’s wrist..  

“Nah,” Bodhi says, rolling onto his back, pressing his shoulder up against Cassian’s.  He sounds content and sure. “He’s not like you.”

  
  


When Wednesday night comes around Cassian doesn’t want to go.  He wants to stand Bodhi up, he wants to stay home and never roll again.  He’s feeling sorry for himself. The reason he’s doing this is for Bodhi though, and he might as well follow through.  

He pulls on a blue shirt and his rainbow suspenders, clipped to his high waisted track shorts.  It’s not classy, but it will do.

Feeling like toeing the line, almost daring to be found out, Cassian parks closer than usual to the rink.  He rolls out, and Bodhi is waiting for him outside, his bright green shirt cut low and open, tied in a knot at his waist.  

Cassian wants to groan.  This is killing him.

“Hey Roller,” Bodhi calls out, pulling away from the wall.

“Hey,” Cassian says.  He clears his throat. “Ready to go all the way through?”

Bodhi nods.  Something about him looks different today, clearer, something.  

They pay the fee and enter wordlessly. Bodhi laces up as Cassian gets on the track, making a few laps to warm up.  Bodhi pulls up behind him and they hold hands and make their way around the rink together. After a few go rounds Cassian drags them to a stop and nods at Bodhi, signaling the start of their routine.  They are flawless, perfect, everything seems to go in slow motion. Cassian pulls Bodhi into the final dip and as they drag to a stop, Bodhi stares up at him, grasping his shoulders. Cassian pulls them up and rolls them over to the rail, pressing Bodhi against it.  

“You did good,” he says.

“Thanks,” Bodhi says.  The rush of closeness that Cassian felt between them at the park is back in full force.

Cassian knows, if he’s ever going to kiss Bodhi, it’s now.  The Phantom Roller, Cassian Andor, they’re the same person, if he has to be the Roller to kiss Bodhi, then that’s it.  Cassian leans forwards and Bodhi pulls back a bit, but he doesn’t go anywhere. The railing is still there. Cassian makes sure he makes his movements and intentions slow and clear, so Bodhi can stop him if he wants to.  

Bodhi keeps his hands on Cassian’s chest, smoothes one up to Cassian’s neck after a moment. Cassian is almost there, his lips brush against Bodhi’s, dry and soft.

Bodhi pushes him away gently.

Cassian is in all honesty, surprised.  He had thought that Bodhi wanted the Roller.  But maybe Bodhi doesn’t want him whatever form he takes.  

“Look, you’re a great guy,” Bodhi says, “and you’re really hot-” he continues.

Cassian groans.  This might be the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to him.

“I’m just in love with someone else.”

Cassian pauses, stunned.  Bodhi is still in love with Han?  How did he miss it? Cassian swallows, bites his lip and nods.  “Okay,” he says past the lump in his throat. “I understand. You wanna call it off?”

Bodhi frowns.  “No, we’re not calling it off!” he says, pushing himself towards Cassian.  “I want to win, but we can’t,” he stops, looking guilty. “We can’t.” He doesn’t finish.

Cassian nods.

“Look, let me make it up to you,” Bodhi says. “Coke? Jokes? TV on Saturday?”

Cassian frowns.  Those are his things, their things, and Bodhi is offering them to the Roller.  “No thanks. You don’t have to make it up. I’m not a total jerk.”

Bodhi nods, and they go through their routine once more, anything not to keep talking.  It’s stilted and awkward for the first time since they started, no longer in sync with each other. Cassian knows if they don’t get it together then they won’t win.  At one point Bodhi slips, and grabs Cassian’s side, his ticklish left side. Cassian whoops like he always does. Bodhi is on the ground, looking at him, strangely. Cassian pulls Bodhi up, and Bodhi, in a sudden flurry, grabs Cassian’s shirt and pulls it up, tickling him.

“Stop!” Cassian says, hitting him, unable to hold back a snort.

Bodhi stops, hands falling away.  Cassian looks at him. “What?” he asks.

“Unbelievable,” Bodhi says.  “All this time, _all this time_?”

Cassian shakes his head.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Bodhi puts hands on his hips, clearly pissed.

“Cassian Andor, you played me like fiddle, you bastard.”

Cassian’s heart drops.  His throat closes, and he can’t say anything.  Bodhi reaches up and tears the mask from his face and it falls to the rink floor.  

Bodhi looks at him, for a long moment, livid.  “I don’t even want to hear an explanation, I’m so mad at you.”

Cassian looks down, ashamed.  “I’m sorry,” he says, but Bodhi is already rolling away.

  


Cassian has very few places he goes when he’s not with Bodhi, and since Wednesday, Bodhi’s been out of his life.  He goes to the library, the Small World Bookstore, and he goes to the arcade.

He’s got a roll of quarters with him, picking an open and unwanted pinball machine.   _KISS_.  Cassian feels sick,and has empathy for a pinball Gene Simmons flashing on the machine.  His life is over.

“Hey kid,” he hears behind him and Cassian rolls his eyes.  Of course Han is here, probably trying that new racing game.  “Kid,” Han says again, louder. Han comes into Cassian’s peripheral view.  Cassian lets the pinballs slide back down without hitting the paddles. Game over.

“Hey Han,” he says.  Han has a strange look on his face.

“I just wanted to,” Han starts awkwardly, then leans against the machine.  “Wanted to say I’m sorry. For Bodhi, you know?”

Cassian frowns.  Bodhi told Han about his feelings?  About the Roller making a move? Why exactly was Han apologizing to him, did the world end?  

“I don’t understand,” he says.  The truth feels like a balm. Maybe he can handle this.  Salvage his and Bodhi’s friendship by being nice to Han. Cassian knows he’s grasping at straws, but he doesn’t know what else to do.

Han looks perturbed, and rolls his eyes.  “I’m saying,” he says, before lowering his voice, “I’m sorry for breaking up with Bodhi.”

Cassian wants to die.  “You want to get back together with him?”

“No!” he says, “I’m not apologizing again because twice is good enough.  I just-” he leans in, hip bumping the pinball machine. “Everything changed when I met Luke.  He’s it for me, you know?”

Cassian nods, understanding that much at least.  Bodhi is it for him too.

“I didn’t handle telling Bodhi that great and now… I don’t know.  Can you at least tell him what I said and to at least try to be civil to Luke?  It’s not Luke’s fault.”

“I’ll tell him next time I see him,” Cassian says and Han seems appeased, leaving him alone with the pinball game again.  Cassian doesn’t mention that might be never.

  


Cassian doesn’t go to the shop Friday night.  Instead, he stays at home, watching “CHiPs” and eating popcorn by himself.  Tonight’s the big night, the roller disco contest. Cassian wants to retire the Phantom Roller, put away the mask forever, but he can’t help wonder if Bodhi is going to be there.  If he might expect Cassian to show, so they can win and Bodhi can shove it in Han’s face. Maybe Bodhi had been hoping to win Han back this way.

Cassian sighs, and pulls out the white leisure suit his mother gave him for his birthday (maybe his mom isn’t the best at gifts, but she loves him and that’s all he needs) and the red satin shirt that goes with it, popping the wide collar over the jacket’s lapels.  He doesn’t pull his hair back, and he grabs the mask on his way out. Tonight the Phantom Roller is going to retire in style.

The whole drive to the Empire is nerve wracking, and no amount of easy rock is capable of soothing his nerves.  He parks in the lot for once, figuring there’s no point in sneaking around, slipping on his skates outside. He takes a steadying breath and puts on the mask.

Cassian rolls in as the competition starts, the lights low and the DJ calling out for the first couple to come out on the dancefloor.  It’s Han and Luke, skating to “The Boys Are Back in Town” and doing a better job than Cassian pegged them for. This might be a real contest after all.

Cassian wonders if Bodhi will even show up tonight.  He rolls over to the DJ and asks to see the docket for the couples.  He and Bodhi are last up to skate and Cassian tells the DJ to play “Ballroom Blitz” when the time comes.

It’s when he’s toeing his way down the stairs that Cassian finally sees Bodhi in the crowd.  His heart rate kicks up and Cassian wonders if he should just duck out the back. This was a terrible idea.

Bodhi sees him and that disappointed look crosses his face again and Cassian wants to run.  Cassian can’t do that, not after everything. He makes his way over to Bodhi.

“Hey Roller,” Bodhi snipes, crossing his arms, looking him up and down.  His mustache twitches in disgust.

“Hey Bodhi,” Cassian says, not changing his voice.  

Bodhi seems to relax at this.  “Come on, we need to talk and we can’t do it here,” he says, dragging Cassian towards the exit before he can question it.  They roll outside, Bodhi leading the way. When they get to the Hornet they ditch the skates and Bodhi gets in the front passenger seat.  Cassian sits on the driver’s side. It brings a sense of normalcy to this.

Cassian takes off the mask, handing it to Bodhi.  “This is my last night as the Phantom Roller,” he says.  “I’m sorry I lied to you.” He swallows around the lump in his throat, feels Bodhi’s eyes on him.  “I just thought that if you wanted the Roller then that’s who I would try to be. But you don’t even want him, you want Han.”  He puts his hands on the wheel for something to hold onto, hoping the pain in his chest will fade.

“Who says I want Han?” Bodhi asks, sounding affronted by the idea.

Cassian looks at him, utterly baffled.  “You did. You said you were in love with him.”

Bodhi rolls his eyes and palms his face, a soft laugh escaping his lips.  “Cassian, I said I was in love with _someone_ , not I’m in love with Han.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not hard to put the pieces together.”

Bodhi squints at him.  “Are you sure you have all the pieces?”  

Cassian shrugs, face heating, wondering how he could have missed Bodhi falling in love with an entire other person.  “I’m sorry I assumed. I’m even sorry that I agreed to this whole thing. I just wanted to spend time with you, maybe let you see a side of me I didn’t want anyone but you to know.  I think-” he clears his throat, and closes his eyes, bracing himself. “I think that I was hoping you would fall for me. Because I’m in love with you.”

Bodhi is quiet at that and Cassian keeps his eyes closed, because if he holds onto this moment, then everything is fine.  He hears the leather seats creak underneath Bodhi. Bodhi’s shifting to get out of the car and out of Cassian’s life and-- Bodhi brushes a piece of hair from Cassian’s face.  Reluctantly, Cassian opens his eyes and turns to see Bodhi, surprised by the gentle expression. Bodhi’s eyes are soft and warm.

“Cassian,” he says.  “I don’t want Han. I don’t even want the Roller, as hot as he is.  I want you.”

Cassian looks down between them.  “As a friend?” he asks.

Bodhi huffs a laugh.  “As a boyfriend. Although **,** I hope we can still be friends too.”  

Cassian looks up sharply, confused.  “But I thought,” he starts and Bodhi stops him, brushing his thumb along Cassian’s lips.  

“You are somehow the smartest and the dumbest man I know.  I love you, Cassian Andor.”

He cups Cassian’s face, drawing him into the space between them.  Bodhi’s lips are soft and dry, like the brush of lips Cassian experienced last time.  Bodhi presses their lips together, and Cassian closes his eyes and moans. Bodhi turns his head in response, deepening the kiss, sucking on Cassian’s lip and running a tongue over it to soothe.  Cassian grabs onto Bodhi’s suspenders and pulls him in closer, dragging his tongue over the fullness of Bodhi’s lips, begging to enter.

Bodhi shifts impossibly closer and Cassian almost stabs himself on the shift stick in his rush, giggling and not quite pulling back.

Bodhi starts laughing too, peppering kisses across Cassian’s face; lips, cheeks, nose, jaw.  

“This isn’t gonna work,” Cassian says breathlessly.  “We need to get in the back.”

Bodhi’s eyes widen and then it’s a race to see who can crawl to the backseat first, Bodhi frantically pulling the seats back to be folded. Cassian shoves him over to help.  They finally make the back flat, their knees bent over the front seat, and Bodhi makes the first move by ripping Cassian’s shirt open.

“What?” Cassian asks, he’s so confused.

“You know when you came out of the shower all wet and then changed without drying off?”

“Yeah?” Cassian doesn’t know where this is going.

“This is for that.”  Bodhi sticks his face into Cassian’s belly, licking a long stripe from his belly button to the waistband of his pants, then nibbles, sucking on the skin there.

“Jesus!” Cassian blurts out and Bodhi laughs.  

“I’m gonna blow you now,” Bodhi says, looking intent, putting a hand on the outline of Cassian’s clothed cock and rubbing.  “I’m going to finesse you later, and it’ll be candles, Al Green, the works, but for now, I’m blowing you in the back of your car because I really kinda always wanted to.”

Cassian groans, and hits his head on the hatchback door.  Then it’s another race to open Cassian’s pants, Bodhi slaps Cassian’s hands away.  Cassian wants to help, but as soon as Bodhi yanks down Cassian’s briefs and pants, Cassian grabs Bodhi’s head and just holds on, threading his fingers in Bodhi’s hair.

His bare ass is on the rough carpet of the back, but Bodhi’s warmth is hovering over him, staring at Cassian’s cock.  Cassian likes it, but he’s starting to wonder if something is wrong. “What?” he asks again.

“Goddamn fucking beautiful, look at you,” Bodhi says, before grabbing the base of Cassian’s dick and putting his searingly hot mouth over the head.  Cassian tightens his grip, shuddering already, and Bodhi slides the hand not working on his shaft over to Cassian’s side, his stomach, tugs at the trail of hair down to his cock before finally cupping his balls.

Cassian grunts, moans, somewhere in between, unable to look away from the most beautiful man giving him head.

Bodhi’s head bobs up and down, his spit sliding down Cassian’s cock, making the hand working on him slide easier, faster.

“Fuck,” Cassian whispers.  Bodhi hums, and Cassian’s hips jerk up without warning, gagging Bodhi a little.  Bodhi pulls off and coughs. “Sorry, sorry,” Cassian says, trying to reach him and smooth hands over his friend.  His boyfriend.

“It’s cool,” Bodhi says, still fondling Cassian’s sack, wet with saliva that’s dripped down.  “I like that you’re excited.” He puts his other hand on the side of Cassian’s hip, still rolling his balls.  

Cassian feels like he’s going crazy.  “You’re excited too, though, right?” he asks, immediately regretting it.  He’s not seventeen.

Bodhi laughs, slips on his knees to the edge of the front seat.  “If I was any more excited, I’d come in my pants,” he shrugs, hunching over Cassian’s crotch again.  

“But I want to taste it,” Cassian whines, and Bodhi grunts, shoving his hips forward, and Bodhi looks up, glaring.  

“You’ve got to warn me,” he says.

Cassian smiles, slowly.  “Maybe,” he says, and Bodhi frowns before pulling his hand off of Cassian’s ballsack and then blowing cool air over Cassian’s twitching cock.  

“God, fuck, okay, I’ll warn you,” Cassian says, grabbing at Bodhi helplessly.  “Please.”

Bodhi face softens into a smile.  “Yeah,” he says, putting his hands back where they were, licking the tip, tongue dabbing on the slit, “I do like it when you beg,” and he takes his hand off of Cassian’s balls, pressing that arm over his hips as he slowly swallows Cassian down.  

Cassian feels like crying, it’s so good, but he bites his lip, trying to stop the sounds coming out of his mouth.  The head of his cock is in Bodhi’s throat, and Bodhi swallows around it, drooling from keeping his mouth open. He pulls off and runs a pointed tongue along the vein on the underside.

Cassian finally sobs, louder than he should for a backseat blowjob, and Bodhi’s eyes heat up at the sound.  The hand that never left his cock is stroking faster and faster, twisting at the top, squeezing a little at the bottom, and Cassian wonders if this is how Bodhi jerks himself off.

“Bodhi,” Cassian grunts, straining at the heat pooling in his belly, the energy flying through his system.  

“Yeah, come for me sweetheart,” Bodhi says, and Cassian loses it.

Come shoots up, hitting Bodhi’s arm, Cassian’s chest.  Cassian shudders at the aftershock of it, his hips still moving even though nothing else is coming out.  It couldn’t possibly, Cassian is so drained.

Bodhi reaches for the blanket they use for gazing at the the stars, and wipes off his arm, and Cassian’s chest.

“Oh my God,” Cassian says.  Bodhi hums, a question.  “The contest!  We need to get in there,” he says, trying fitfully to pull his pants back up.  

Bodhi laughs.  “Cassian, it doesn’t matter,” he says.  “I’ve got you. I don’t need to prove anything anymore.”  He pats the side of Cassian’s ass and Cassian lifts his hips for Bodhi to help pull Cassian’s pants back on.  “Now let’s go to your house and put on some Al Green, okay?” he asks. He shifts up, the line of his cock obvious through his polyester pants, straining.  

Cassian reaches out and grabs it, squeezes and Bodhi groans, falling onto his knees, knocking Cassian’s hand out of the way.  “Cassian. Warn me,” he says.

“I want to see,” Cassian says, and Bodhi lies back next to Cassian, like they usually do in the airfield. Bodhi wastes no time, unzips himself and pushes his underwear out of the way.  Bodhi’s cock is thinner than Cassian’s. Longer, too. Either way it’s, _“Beautiful.”_

Bodhi huffs a breath of air, surprised and blushing.  Cassian turns on his side and presses his body against Bodhi and licks his hand before grasping Bodhi’s cock, hot and soft in his hand.  

Bodhi’s body surges up at the attention, and Cassian kisses Bodhi’s neck, his ear, the line of his cheekbone.  Bodhi is undulating, shaking from the torment of Cassian’s hand. He must be close, and Cassian smiles into Bodhi’s neck.  “Looks like I get a taste tonight after all,” he says, and Bodhi shouts, pushing against the hatchback door, cramming him closer to the front seat, and lifts his hips.  And his come, God, Cassian thinks, his come hits the car roof.

Cassian works Bodhi until he stops shaking, getting the blanket and wiping off the car and Bodhi’s shirt as best he can.

Bodhi grabs his wrist.  “Let me see,” he says, voice raw.  

Cassian lifts his come covered hand to his mouth, sucks at the junction of thumb and index.  Bodhi groans. “Fuck you’re gonna kill me,” he says. They lay in the backseat for a minute, letting their breaths and heart rates go back to normal.  Bodhi tucks himself back in.

The windows are fogged up, and Cassian can hardly believe he just had sex in the back of his car.  Bodhi rolls onto his hands and knees, and purposefully writes on the window: a B, a heart, and a C.  

Cassian thinks he shouldn’t find this romantic, but he does, pulling himself up to sit, watching the edges of the steamed windows fade.  

"Well,” he hears a voice outside the Hornet.  Han. “I see where the competition went.” Bodhi rolls his eyes, and puts his head on Cassian’s shoulder, shaking with laughter.  “I still won this fair and square!” Han shouts.

“See you next year, Solo!” Bodhi shouts back.

Cassian laughs.

  


The night is blissfully long, and Cassian and Bodhi finally take their time to learn each other’s bodies in Cassian’s bed.  They find it surprisingly easy when they’re not cramped in the backseat of the Hornet.

They talk deep into the night and fall asleep slowly, drawing circles with their fingers, painting future places they will know.

Cassian wakes up first the next day, blinking in the morning light.  He turns and sees Bodhi’s bare shoulder and kisses it gently before getting up to take a shower.  He loved every second of the night before, but he doesn’t like being too crusty.

When he gets out Bodhi greets him at the bathroom door with a kiss.  “I’m gonna take a shower,” Bodhi says between kisses.

“Then get in there,” Cassian says, forgetting about holding onto his towel, and it hangs between them, both pressed tight to one another.

Bodhi slides a hand down to Cassian’s hip, around to the full of his cheek.  “Join me?” he asks.

“Breakfast first,” Cassian says, even though he’s tempted to forget it and climb back in.

“Okay,” Bodhi sighs.  He squeezes his handful of Cassian’s ass.  “But we will shower together later, right?”

Cassian laughs.  “What you got some kind of fantasy?” he teases.  Bodhi frowns, his cheeks darkening.

“No!” he says, affronted.  He’s lying.

“One day I’ll know all your fantasies,” Cassian says.  “And I will take a shower with you. But I need coffee.”

Bodhi snorts, slipping past to start the water up again.  

Cassian puts on the bottom half of a pajama set, and goes out to the kitchen.  He hears Bodhi humming a jingle in the shower and sighs.

He’s made the Sunrise instant coffee and some eggs when Bodhi comes out of the shower.  He’s put on the Phantom Roller’s shorts.

Cassian blinks, raising an eyebrow.  Bodhi looks amazing, as usual, but there’s something about Bodhi in Cassian’s clothes that make Cassian want to forget the coffee.

“My pants are kinda crusty,” Bodhi says, cringing.  “Okay if I stick around and do laundry?” He sits at the table and smiles.  “The end of bitter coffee, bye bye,” he sings, picking up his cup. “Sunrise coffee is here!”

Cassian groans.  “Fuck,” he swears, putting his head in his hands.  

“Can’t get rid of me now,” Bodhi teases.  

Cassian looks up at him from the table.  “Never,” he says.

  
  
  



End file.
